


Sword and Sheath

by coolerthancats



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (background) Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Biting, F/M, Hair-pulling, Light scratching, Masturbation, Sex Magic, Vaginal Sex, and i think that's very cool and sexy of them, but since everything's metaphysical they're also fucking every chapter, dreamscape, it's "will they/won't they" bullshit, spoilers through ep111
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 08:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26848570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolerthancats/pseuds/coolerthancats
Summary: Caleb and Jester get trapped in an extradimensional space that reflects their sexual fantasies back at them.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 29
Kudos: 174





	1. Opening Curtains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was writing a different fic and I realized that hey! actually! writing romantic scenes is really fucking difficult! and it stresses me out! So this fic is basically smut bootcamp. It's a great big sexy swimming pool and I am throwing myself into the deep end, fully intending to drown.  
> But also that means that I haven't written anything NSFW before. Please be kind.
> 
> This first chapter has nothing sexy in it whatsoever, it’s just establishing what’s going on. The fun starts in Chapter 2.

They hadn’t meant to fight a dragon. Not really. But then, Caleb thought, the Mighty Nein hadn’t meant to do most of the things they did.

It had started when Jester had Scried on Kiri. She’d just wanted to check on her, but found the Schuster family evacuating Hupperdook. A quick Teleport on Caleb’s part, a Locate Object cast on Kiri’s music box, and the gang was reunited with their little Kenku friend. 

According to the Schusters, a young Red Dragon had taken up residence in a nearby mountain and was causing some trouble in Hupperdook, hence the evacuation orders. The Mighty Nein had instantly agreed to take it on. It wasn’t like they had anything more important to do. 

Jester gave the Schusters 200 gold pieces on the way out. She was always sweet like that.

With a few days to track the dragon down, a half-baked plan to befriend it, an even more half-baked attempt that almost led to Veth getting eaten, and one particularly scrappy fight, the Nein emerged victorious and a young Red Dragon lay dead in its lair. 

The hoard of treasure, though, was underwhelming.

“This is like barely anything!” Jester poked at a moderate pile of coins with her foot. They covered a few square feet of the cave floor, but at their deepest they only came an inch or two off the ground. Occasional pieces of jewelry or art broke up the monotony, but as far as dragon hoards went it was unimpressive. A generous estimate would place it at about 2600 gold coins.

Caleb eyed the pile. He knew firsthand that to any simple farmer that much gold would have been life changing. But compared to the riches that their group had stumbled onto fighting other more dangerous monsters, he could understand Jester’s disappointment. 

“That’s what, less than 400 gold each?” asked Fjord. Caleb could see him running through the same calculations he had. It would more than compensate for the days of hunting, and even Jester’s extravagant kindness toward the Schusters. It was definitely better for Hupperdook that the dragon had been dealt with. But this sum, which would have been completely overwhelming only a year ago, now felt like a letdown.

“But look at this!” Veth held up two jewel-encrusted gold goblets which looked massive in her halfling hands. “These are cool!”

Jester crouched to look at the goblets. “They are pretty cool. Maybe we can take them back to the Xhorhaus?”

“And we can get one of those really long tables for the dining room-”

“Like the one Icky Thong has, yeah.”

“And we can keep these at the two ends of the table, so if anybody comes over we’ll look really sophisticated. Like we're the kind of people that actually use a dining room.”

“But we’ll have to get other cups for the rest of the seats. Less cool ones, obviously,” said Jester. “Like, plain gold, maybe with one jewel on them or something.”

Veth gasped. “We can get the jewels color-coded! So everybody has their own cup!”

Jester clapped her hands, delighted. “Yes! That would be so fun!”

Fjord gave them an exasperated look. “Are you really going to redecorate the entire dining room and change all of our dinnerware? Because of some cups?”

“They’re cool cups, Fjord,” said Veth.

“They are really cool cups, Fjord,” said Jester.

“Wait, guys, look at _this._ ” Beau, on the other side of the cavern, held up a sword. It had a sturdy silver handle and a pure gold sheath.

Fjord let out a low whistle.

Jester gasped. “Oh my gosh. Bring it over here, I want to see it!”

Beau made her way over, sliding a little over the ankle-height piles of coins. As she got closer, she gripped the handle to pull the sword out of its sheath. It stayed firmly in place.

“Huh.” Beau readjusted her grip and pulled again. It didn’t budge. “I think it’s stuck.”

“Let me try.” Fjord held out his hand and Beau passed him the sword. He poked around the handle for a moment, looking for some kind of latch or mechanism keeping the sword locked in place. Apparently he found nothing. He gripped the handle and pulled, straining with effort.

It still didn’t budge.

“Do you think it’s magicked shut?” asked Beau. “Or maybe you have to attune to it first, or something. Caleb, can you Identify it?”

“Ja, of course.” Caleb reached out for the sword. Fjord, satisfied that he couldn’t pull it free, passed it over.

It was a beautiful weapon, now that Caleb was close enough to examine it. The sheath was completely covered in ornate gold filigree, an intricate pattern of hexagons branching and overlapping into complex vines and flowers. On the sword’s handle, a thick silver crossguard curved upward like a crescent moon. The pommel was a silver circle, engraved with a delicate spirograph, with a little rectangular jade charm that dangled from a chain. The grip was pure silver, with deep lateral grooves evenly spaced down its length.

Caleb was no sword fighter, but that metal grip didn’t seem like it would be comfortable on the hands. And the little jade charm… He examined it more closely. It didn’t match the rest of the sword _at all_. It was a 2x3 grid, with odd ridges between the compartments. Where every other element of the sword and sheath had been made with geometric beauty in mind, this looked like it had been tacked on as an afterthought.

He suspected that the sword had started out as an ornamental piece, then someone had attached the jade piece to it afterward to make it viable in combat. That or someone in the ornamental sword business had simply made a poor design choice.

“I think it is probably enchanted,” he said. “I’m going to cast Identify as a ritual spell, which will take about ten minutes. Does anyone need anything from me before I begin?”

“Wait, I want to take a turn!” said Jester. She reached her hands out and wiggled her fingers in a grabby-grabby motion that she had almost certainly picked up from Veth.

Fjord frowned. “Jester, it’s magic. Neither of us was even able to budge it.” 

“But I’m, like, _really_ strong though,” said Jester.

Beau snorted.

Well, her argument was certainly compelling. Caleb was acutely aware of Jester’s strength, as much as he tried to keep that part of his mind locked tight. Besides, it was possible that the sword was simply stuck. If she could manage to pull it free, it would save him ten minutes. That had to be worth an attempt.

Caleb held the sword out toward Jester. Instead of taking it from him, she wrapped both hands around the silver grip and met his eyes. He braced the sheath under one arm and used both hands to grip tight. Jester planted her feet and pulled.

The sword began to slide out of the sheath. Jester gasped in delight. 

There was a flash of light, and the ground beneath their feet fell away.

Scheisse. 

* * *

Caleb woke up flat on his back.

The sword had flashed, and now he was here. He didn’t open his eyes, and tried not to move a muscle. There was no telling what enemies might be nearby.

He took stock.

His name was Caleb Widogast. He was born Bren Aldric Ermendrud, to his parents Leofric and Una. His cat was Frumpkin, his best friend was Veth Brenatto, and he was a member of the Mighty Nein.

Caleb’s mind had not been tampered with, as far as he could tell. Perhaps that was overly cautious, but the Nein’s run-in with Vokodo had left him a little wary of memory modification.

He focused his attention toward his body.

The ground beneath his back was flat. He was not lying on coins in the dragon’s lair, so this was a new location. Perhaps the sword’s enchantment had knocked him unconscious, and the rest of the Nein had moved him away from the lair? Or, more likely, the spell had transported him somewhere else. Somewhere else in Exandria? Another plane? A demiplane? 

His fingers and toes responded when he wiggled them. His arms were at his side, and his legs were splayed out naturally. No discomfort. No unnatural weight hung on him. Caleb’s limbs were all intact, uninjured, and they were almost certainly not shackled.

There had been no sound in the room as he conducted his assessment. He was probably alone. 

He opened his eyes.

He was alone in a closed room, about 10 square feet in size. A glance at the walls and ceiling revealed that every square inch was covered in gold filigree. Hexagons overlapped to form intricate flowers.

_Scheisse._

He sat up. The floor below him was smooth and flat - the raised lines of the filigree did not extend that far, thank goodness. It was silver in colour, but where it touched his hand it lacked the biting coldness of plain metal. Maybe marble? Or perhaps some other material that he had yet to identify. As he stood, he could see delicate veins of gold that lined the floor, trailing and intersecting into a complex, fractal-like pattern of irregular pentagons and five pointed stars.

They had tiled the floor with pentagons. Well. This was definitely a wizard’s construction. Only a scholar would make a geometry joke that obtuse.

Caleb approached the nearest wall and poked at the filigree. Cold metal. Scratching a fingernail across one of the thin wires scored it easily. It was real gold, and high quality at that.

Between the wizarding influence and the absurd amounts of money it would take to construct this room in the Material Plane, all signs pointed to this being an extradimensional building. 

Now the trick was to get out.

Caleb examined the rest of the room. On the near wall was a recessed door of average height and shape, covered with the same gold pattern of the wall. It was framed in a thick silver border that swirled and pointed outward in a wave pattern. A large silver handle in the shape of a crescent moon sat prominently in the center of the door, rather than off to the side as one might have expected. There were deep lateral grooves down the handle’s length. There was no knob and no knocker. 

Who knew what might happen if he grabbed the handle. Perhaps it would open the door, ja, but it might teleport him somewhere else. It may deal damage. Better to examine everything else in the room first. 

He turned back toward the rest of the room. The only other thing of note was a narrow pedestal in the center of the room. It was about chest height, and extended up out of the silver floor, marked by the same silver pattern and gold veins. On top of it was something gold, but it was difficult to make it out clearly. The wall behind it was the same shade, which obscured the details.

**“Caleb!”**

He spun around, wondering how he’d missed Jester in the confined space, only to realize that he wasn’t picking up the sound in his ears, but in his mind. She was using Sending.

**“I’m in this weird room? It’s all silver and stuff. Where are you? Can you get me out?”**

There was a moment of silence.

**“Did you see how strong I** was?” 

The sound fizzled out oddly. That was _26_ words. Sending only allowed for 25. The spell should have cut out the last word, but he'd heard Jester's voice finish the sentence, just barely. Since when did a Sending spell do that?

He shook his head. 

Jester was in a similar room. That made sense. She had also had her hands on the sword. Luckily, it sounded like she was all right. He had 25 words for his response, and he didn’t know how many spell slots Jester had left. He had to think carefully.

**“Jester.”** He could feel the magical effect on his words as he said them aloud. There was no doubt that she was hearing them. **“I am in a gold room, like yours. Not injured. Message Beauregard. Ask where the Nein are.”**

He hoped she had enough magic left over after their fight with the dragon for at least two more messages. To speak to Beau, then relay the response to Caleb. Ideally he and Jester had been the only ones caught in the blast, and Beau would still be in the dragon’s lair with the rest of their party. But if Beau was alone in her own magical room, he could reasonably conclude that all of their party had been dragged to this strange place. Except possibly Caduceus and Yasha, who had been standing about 20 feet away preparing to harvest teeth and scales from the dragon. He doubted the sword would have that kind of range.

There was nothing else he could do until he knew the details of the situation. But he did have seven words left. 

**“Yes, you're very strong. It was cool.”**

He was met with silence. Best case scenario, she was using Sending on Beau, worst case she was out of spell slots. He returned to examining his chamber.

The pedestal in the center of the room had a statuette of a golden hand, though he was practically on top of the thing before he could make out what it was. It had a sturdy silver ring on its third finger, and it was posed oddly. The thumb reached across the palm to press against the ring. Caleb eyed it closely, careful not to touch it.

“Hey, Beau?”

Caleb blinked. He could still hear Jester’s voice, much quieter than before. He didn’t think it was possible for Sending to transmit to the wrong person, but he could definitely still hear her.

“Where are you guys? Caleb and I are stuck in these weird rooms that are gold and silver and stuff like the sword.”

Her voice was coming from the ring on the statuette.

“Also, I got the sword open! Did you see? ...Was that too many words?”

Jester had said her room was silver. He had assumed her room was merely comparable to his, but what if it was identical? Or rather, inversed? What if she had a ring like this in her room?

He picked up the statuette, took off the ring, and put it on his own finger. 

“Jester? Can you hear me?”

There was no response. He frowned and reexamined the ring. The only markings on it were deep grooves, like the handle of the sword. No hints there. 

The statuette had had the thumb reaching across to touch the ring. Caleb arranged his hand the same way and tried again.

“Jester!” He didn’t yell, but he spoke loudly, hoping that she would be able to hear him through the quiet transmission of the ring. “Put on the ring in your room. We can use it to talk to each other.”

Another moment passed.

“Hi Caleb!” 

He sighed in relief. It was, without a doubt, _not_ Sending. They would be able to communicate without wasting all of their spells.

Now that he was wearing it, her voice no longer sounded like it was coming from the ring itself. Instead it sounded like she was standing right beside him. He suspected that if anyone else had been in the room with him, they would not hear her voice.

“So. I talked to Beau. She said that everybody is still there, but we vanished, and she wants to know what we want her to do.”

Caleb sighed in relief. He and Jester would still need to find their way out of here, but the others were safe. 

“How many more messages do you have in you?” Caleb asked. 

“One more. Unless I cast it at a higher level, but that doesn’t seem like a super great idea right now.”

Good thing he had figured out the ring in time. She hadn’t wasted that spell on him, so they could send a message back to Beau.

But now, what to do? Caleb considered. 

Then reconsidered.

With dawning horror, Caleb realized that they were unequivocally _fucked._

The Nein were just outside Hupperdook. While Caleb was in this sword-space, whatever it was, he couldn’t teleport them around. If they wanted to go anywhere they’d have to either travel by foot or go through the Cobalt Soul. But to reach the nearest Cobalt Soul library would require first travelling to either Rexxentrum or Zadash, both around 2 weeks’ journey from Hupperdook. 

He and Jester would probably be able to escape this strange place on their own before then. And if they did, wunderbar. Caleb could resume teleporting the Nein wherever they pleased.

But what if they couldn’t? 

If this extradimensional chamber proved too much for them, they would need a powerful wizard’s help to escape. Caleb didn’t trust any powerful wizards in Rexxentrum, and didn’t _know_ any powerful wizards in Zadash. Well, there was Pumat Sol, of course. But if Jester and Caleb couldn't escape this trap in the two weeks it would take to reach him, he didn't think Pumat would be much help.

The only people he would trust to help them would be Yussa, far south in Nicodranas, or Allura Vysoren, in distant Tal’Dorei.

Caleb tried to calculate. To go on foot from Hupperdook to Nicodranas would take about a month. The Nein could go to the Cobalt Soul, enlist help there to teleport to Port Demali, then go by foot to Nicodranas, but no, that would also take a month. If they arrived in Port Demali and hired the fastest sailing ship they could, that would only save a week total.

And all of that assumed that the Nein wouldn’t be held up or attacked.

A month. Three weeks at the absolute soonest.

Scheisse. _Scheisse._

The two of them would have to escape on their own. They’d have to. But if they _couldn’t..._

“Tell her to return to Hupperdook and alert the authorities that the dragon is dead. Then…” He grimaced. Better to prepare for the worst and be pleasantly surprised than the other way around. “Take the sword to the Cobalt Soul Archive in Zadash.”

“Okay!” Jester cleared her throat. “Hey Beau? We’re okay! Ummm.” There was a pause as Jester considered her words, and when she spoke it was slow and broken. “Take sword to Cobalt Soul in Zadash. Tell Hupperdook: dragon is dead.”

“Nine words left,” said Caleb.

There was another long pause.

“Tell Veth… Jester wants pink jewel for her cup.”

Caleb bit back a smile, not that anyone was around to see it. There was another moment of silence, presumably as Beau responded.

“Okay!” Jester’s voice came through again. “She wants to know if we’re going to Zadash because the Cobalt Soul can help, or if it’s because we need the teleportation circle. Should I call her back with a higher spell slot?”

“No, that is fine,” said Caleb. “If we can get out of here on our own then you can tell her in person. Instead, would you please tell me what your room looks like?”

Luckily for him, Jester was a master of jumping from one topic to another. She didn’t hesitate a moment before she leapt into her description.

“It's. _Gorgeous._ The walls are all silver, with these deep lines cut in them going sideways, like the handle of the sword. You saw it. The floor is- the floor is _so_ pretty Caleb - it’s all gold except for these silver lines that are making this pattern of stars and pentagons all centered around this pedestal in the middle of the room. I want to make a dress out of it.”

Sure enough, her room sounded like a perfect inverse of his. She continued.

“The pedestal has the same pattern as the floor, and it has a statue of a silver hand and it had this _beautiful_ golden ring on it, but I think you know about that bit already.”

“Your ring.” He had more than enough evidence of his inversion theory, but further confirmation wouldn’t hurt. “Is it sort of thin and floral in design? Or is it more sturdy?”

“Oh my gosh. It’s these overlapping vines, but there are these six tiny flowers going all the way around it. It is _so elegant._ It looks like something my mom would wear.”

Definitely the same design as his filigree walls then. No doubt about it now.

“The only other thing in here is this door. It’s got this gold border, _very_ pretty. It looks a lot like my ring, actually! But the actual door part is the same sort of silver pattern as the walls, and it’s got this golden handle that looks like a bunch of vines twisted together.”

As she spoke, Caleb ran another quick sweep of his own room. Excluding the obvious exception of the door, none of the walls had any noticeable deviations. There was nothing for him to see, and if there was a secret opening of some kind it defied his perception. 

There were no errors in the floor’s pattern. He combed over the central pedestal, but found nothing. 

There was nothing left to examine but the door.

He cleared his throat. “My room is much the same as yours, but the colours are inverted. The areas that are silver in your room are gold in mine. The only notable things are the pedestal and the door. I couldn’t find any secret buttons or openings here, but if you would like to look for them in your room you are welcome to. It is possible that I overlooked something.”

“Oh, that’s good thinking! I’ll look around. And I’m an artist, you know, I might pick up something really tiny and easy to miss.”

He smiled. “Ja, that is a good idea. Let me know what you find.” 

With that, he turned to the door. When it came to detecting traps, Veth was the person to ask. Caleb wasn’t really sure what to look for, but damn if he wasn’t going to look. 

As with the walls, there were no errors or points of interest in the filigree pattern. The heavy silver border held no real secrets, but now that Caleb was looking closely he could see that it wasn’t a wave pattern. It was a series of overlapping crescent moons, each one etched as though it had once been part of a larger spirograph. 

What was the significance of the moon motif? Was this place created by a follower of the Moonweaver? No, the Moonweaver didn’t have anything to do with spirographs. Was it nothing more than aesthetic preference?

He moved on to the handle, which didn’t _look_ like it activated anything ominous, but he couldn’t be certain without touching it.

The longer he examined, the more glad Caleb was that he'd had Veth for all those months before he met the others. He was _terrible_ at this.

“Hey Caleb?”

He snapped his head up on instinct, as if Jester was actually in the room for him to look at. It was just the ring. Obviously. 

“Ja?”

“Do you think this place is like the Happy Fun Ball? Time isn’t going to get all weird, is it?”

That… That was a reasonable connection to make, actually. 

“I can understand why you ask, but no, I don’t think so. Beau responded in real time, didn’t she?”

“Oh yeah.” She paused to think, and Caleb wished he could see her. She had a very cute frown when she thought very hard about something. “But what is it then?”

He had no proof of his theory, but doubted Jester would care about that.

“I am not certain, but if I had to guess, I would say it’s more like the Nascent Nein-Sided Tower. I think a wizard created this place, then enchanted the sword to bring people into it”

“Hm. So we’re really tiny right now?”

“Ja, it is possible.”

Jester was quiet for a few minutes.

Caleb couldn’t find anything notable about the door. Considering that this place was created with magic, looking for physical traps might have been overcautious to begin with. He could accept that. A lack of caution had gotten them stuck here in the first place.

He prepared to cast Identify on the door. It would have to be a ritual cast; the preparations for the dragon fight earlier meant that he hadn’t prepared it as a regular spell. Whatever. He could certainly spare ten minutes.

Before he could even begin, the silver door handle began to glow gold. Caleb flinched and leapt back.

For long moments the handle glowed, then just as quickly it vanished back into silver.

“Jester? My door just did something strange. Are you all right?”

She didn’t answer immediately.

_“Jester?”_

“Did something strange how?” she asked. There was something to her voice that Caleb couldn’t place.

“The door handle just started to glow another colour. It is silver, it started to glow gold.”

“Oh. Uh. Hm. Well see, the crazy thing is… I might have grabbed my door handle just now?”

Caleb took a deep breath in through the nose.

“I wasn’t going to open it! I just wanted to see what would happen!”

He was calm. This was fine. “When you touched your door handle, my door handle lit up.”

Jester was silent. His door handle started glowing again.

“I don't think it is such a good idea to be touching this door. We don't know what it can do.”

“I couldn’t open it anyway! It’s totally stuck, the door won’t move.”

One part of his brain started to scream in utter panic, but he sectioned that part off. He couldn’t be sure yet, but he believed he was seeing a pattern with this artefact. Something would seem totally stuck, totally harmless, until you put enough force into it and it exploded in your face.

“Hey, Caleb, I want to see what the handle looks like when it’s glowing. Grab the one on your side.”

“I really do not think this is wise, Jester. I want to cast Identify before we touch anything potentially dangerous."

She was quiet again, but he could _hear_ her making her thinking frown.

“You know, I don’t think this place wants to hurt us,” she said. “We can be careful if you really want to, but I don’t think anything bad will happen.”

Caleb paused. Jester didn’t have a lot of experience with the ins and outs of advanced magic, but she wasn’t dumb. Her judgment tended to be reliable, if somewhat optimistic.

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“Well, the rings are here. Whatever made this place didn’t have to give us a way to talk to each other, but it did anyway. And everything is so pretty, too. If it wanted to lock us in a gross prison cell or drop spikes on us or something, it could have. But it didn’t.”

That wasn’t flawless reasoning, but it held water. 

“Besides, we had to work together to pull the sword out, and that’s when the spell happened, right? And the rings let us talk to each other. I bet this place is all about teamwork! If we both grab a handle at the same time the doors will swing right open!”

The handle on his door lit up again.

Caleb breathed deeply.

On the one hand, he didn’t know anything about this place. He had no idea what danger might be lurking ahead. On the other, Jester was asking him to trust her.

Damn it. It wasn’t even a question.

He grabbed the glowing handle, and without an ounce of resistance the door slid forward from its recess, and then sideways into the wall. The space beyond was pitch black.

Jester let out an excited squeal. “We did it! I figured it out!”

Caleb smiled again. He had always prided himself on his poker face, but somehow Jester could come at his composure like a sledgehammer to porcelain.

As he stepped forward into the darkness, something-  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a little dry, I was just trying to set up the premise as hard as I possibly could so I could actually hop straight to the dicking for the rest of it  
> Thank you for your patience


	2. Spa Days and Antechambers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unusually long chapter ahead.  
> Also, I would like to reiterate: this is my first time writing smut. Don't be looking to get your mind blown.

They were in the spa at the Xhorhaus. The air was thick with steam, and everything smelled of the chamomile and orange blossoms that Caduceus had added to the water. A few wall sconces cast a warm, flickering glow over the room.

It was getting late.

Their group had stumbled into some down-time for a few days. After teleporting Veth to her family in Nicodranas, the rest relaxed, and they had decided to finish their first day off with a calming soak.

Caduceus was the first to go to bed, though he left some sachets of herbs behind for the rest to add to the spa as they pleased. Yasha and Beau left together. A while later, Fjord left as well. 

Caleb was left alone with Jester, and in the interest of propriety he decided he’d better follow suit. He bid her goodnight and moved to climb out of the water. 

“Oh wait! Caleb!” Jester leapt up to grab his hand before he could do any more than stand. Her bathing suit, a white cotton shift that reached to her thigh, clung to her body as she stood up. 

Caleb forced that thought, and any related ones, to the back of his mind. 

“Could you heat up the water one more time? I don’t think I’ll be able to go to bed for a while.”

That was odd. The water wasn’t as warm as it had been when he’d first heated it, but it was far from cool. How much longer was she planning to stay? Not that that was any of his business, if she wanted it warmer it was easy enough to do. 

He put his hand under the water and cast Fire Bolt into the center of the pool. A cloud of pleasant-smelling steam shot up instantly, clouding the room. Jester made a noise of mild distress and climbed out to sit on the edge of the water, only leaving her lower legs dangling in. Apparently he’d been a little too successful. 

“Sorry,” he said. “It was a little too warm to begin with. I should have waited.”

“No, no, I asked you to. You were going to bed. You shouldn’t have to stay up just because I’m going to.”

Caleb was still standing waist-deep in the water, legs turning red from the heat. It wasn’t hot enough to be painful, but he copied Jester’s example and sat down on the edge of the spa, with his calves dangling over.

The grey flagstone surrounding the spa was comparatively cool. The warm air and rising steam had heated it a little, but the contrast between the stone and the warm water was surprisingly pleasant. If he hadn’t been present for the spa’s hasty installation he would have assumed it was done deliberately. 

“Why are you staying up? Do you think you won’t be able to sleep? I’m sure Caduceus would give you some relaxing tea if you asked him.”

Jester folded her arms and shook her head. “Beau and Yasha left together,” she said. 

“Ja, I am aware.”

She leaned in conspiratorially and gave him a significant look. “I think they are going to have sex.”

Caleb blinked. “Oh. Uh. Good for them, I suppose.”

They sat in silence for a moment, as Jester continued to give him the significant look and Caleb continued to not understand.

“Sorry, what does that have to do with you? Why can’t you go to sleep?”

“Beau and I share a room.”

Caleb choked on his own spit and sputtered. He had to smack himself on the chest a few times before he could breathe clearly. In all his frantic floundering he found himself wishing he had better covering than the flimsy towel he had wrapped around his waist.

“I do not think Beauregard would have sex with her girlfriend in your shared bedroom,” he said, once he had finally recovered. 

Jester cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Not while you are home.”

The eyebrow did not go down.

“Not when you need to sleep in that same bedroom. She is not that inconsiderate.”

Jester sighed and her face eased into something more accepting. “You’re probably right. I think they probably went to Yasha’s room. But, you know, her room shares a wall with ours, so I’d hear everything anyway.”

“Oh.” Caleb was blushing at this point, but luckily the warm air provided an excuse. “I can understand your hesitation, then.”

Jester splashed her feet in the water, pouting. “I don’t really care about stuff like that, you know? I grew up with mama in the Lavish Chateau, I’m okay with people having sex. But Beau’s going to try to sneak back into our room after, so either I’d have to pretend to be asleep already, or I’d have to _be_ asleep already, or else I’d have to talk to her, and no matter what I do she’ll be all awkward about it.” She turned her frown to an easy, practiced smile. “So I’ll just wait here. The spa is nice anyway.”

That was quite a predicament. Jester seemed more resigned than upset, but Caleb was struck by the urge to help anyway. 

In ordinary circumstances he would have opened up the Nascent Nein-Sided Tower and let her sleep in her own room there. But, having Teleported Veth to Nicodranas, that was no longer an option. 

Perhaps he could send Frumpkin to check Jester’s room? Well. Hm. A nice thought in theory, but if Jester was right and the neighbors were audible, Caleb wouldn’t want to bear witness. Or worse, to be accused of spying. 

Perhaps if Jester used Sending… no, that would definitely not be suitable.

He couldn’t think of anything he could do to help, besides maybe staying up to keep her company and heat the spa. Or wait, no, perhaps his presence would be an imposition? It was difficult to make up his mind as to a course of action. 

But then, it was difficult to think of anything while Jester was wearing that white shift and nothing else.

It was soaked all the way through. It wasn’t completely transparent, but the thin white material edged on blue against her skin, and the way it clung to her curves left little to the imagination. To make it worse, Jester, uninhibited as ever, didn’t seem bothered by her state of dishabille, if she had considered it at all.

Caleb did not stare. That would be rude. This state of relative undress shouldn’t have even registered - all of the Nein had bathed together completely naked before.

Actually, scheisse, thinking about Jester naked was not helpful while he was trying not to stare at her in a state of undress.

Oh no.

While his thoughts had been distracted, a problem had arisen, so to speak. He tried to readjust discreetly, and hoped that Jester wouldn’t notice. 

She eyed him, and she had a _look_ on her face. Not sharp enough to be accusatory, but definitely attentive. Her eyes flicked downward, then back up to his face. She smiled, all mischief.

Caleb blushed harder and averted his eyes. “Okay, the water is very warm, I think it will last for a while. I’m going to bed now.”

Jester let out a discontented moan and flopped backward onto the stone floor, splashing her feet gently in the water. “You were really clever when you picked your room out. You don’t have to deal with any problems like this.”

He had stated his intention to leave, but standing to exit the room would advertise his, um, dilemma. She’d already seen... well. Jester was hardly squeamish about the male body, but he would like to leave with what remained of his dignity, if possible. He sat there, trying to figure out the mechanics of standing with only his tiny spa towel to cover himself. “Um. Ja, you are right. I am lucky to have a room to myself.”

She sat back upright, then scooched closer to him. “Not just a room to yourself. You don’t have anyone in the rooms next to you. It’s like you have your own little island.”

Caleb wasn’t completely sure what was happening. Yes, he was lucky that he didn’t have to listen to his friends having sex, that was definitely a plus. But Jester was looking up at him through long eyelashes, leaning forward so he could see the down the gap where the shift hung off of her breasts, looking for all the world like a predator moving in on its prey.

“In fact,” Jester slid herself so close to him that her knees could touch his, “there’s nobody else with a room on this floor.”

He needed to leave. The only explanation he could imagine for her behaviour was the obvious one, but the obvious answer was _impossible._ He needed to act responsibly and leave before anything got out of hand.

She stroked one finger down his arm, and Caleb shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the warm air. 

“If _you_ decided to get up to something, I bet nobody would hear you at all.”

He didn’t move. Götter, he didn’t even try.

With a wicked smile and deliberate, slow movements, she pulled her legs out of the water, rose to her knees, and straddled Caleb’s lap.

His breath came up shallow. If she hadn’t noticed before that he was rock hard then she had definitely noticed it now. 

Jester snaked one hand behind him, tracing lightly over his neck, then reached up and gripped a handful of his hair. She didn’t pull tight, just hard enough for his breath to catch in his throat. There was no way she could have known that was a weakness of his, but any chance of his walking out had been obliterated. He had no chance of preserving his dignity. He barely held back a moan.

When he'd thought of Jester, he'd always imagined her as someone who would tease and flirt, but ultimately wait for her suitor to make the first move. Caleb was not a perfect judge of character, of course. He could accept a misjudgement on his part. _This_ though? Climbing into his lap while they were both half-naked to pull his hair and- 

She scraped her teeth over his neck. This time he couldn’t hold himself back. He let out a strangled moan, then bit down on his lip, embarrassed at his own lapse in self-control.

He had never considered Jester might prefer an aggressive approach. Not that he was complaining, far from it. 

She bit down harder at his throat, forcing another moan from him, bordering on a whine. Tieflings had sharper teeth than humans. His brain staticked out at the thought that she might leave a mark - he’d have to wear a high collar tomorrow. Fuck it, he’d cover himself head to toe if that’s what she wanted.

Instead, hand still wrapped tight in his hair, she pulled her face away and met his eyes. She wore a new smile, candy-sweet and smug. 

“I was right,” she said. 

“O-oh?” asked Caleb, struggling to focus. His thoughts were far too scattered for how little they had actually done.

She took his chin in one hand, lifted him to meet her eyes. “I thought you would make a cute expression if you actually enjoyed yourself for a few seconds. I was right.”

Caleb moved.

If his intellectual side had been fully operational, he might have thought harder about it. Jester was clearly enjoying taking the lead here, and Caleb was eager to play along. It seemed like she had some sort of a plan, and if it was anything like what she’d been doing so far he wouldn’t want to interrupt. He’d have to be a fool to stop something so mutually enjoyable.

But in this moment, his mind was empty. Coherent thought drowned in Jester’s sharp-toothed smile. No matter how good her plan might have been, his animal brain was confident that he could do a lot more, a lot faster.

He grabbed her hips with both hands and thrust up against her, delighting in the loud gasp from Jester. He did it again, rolling his hips up, only the towel separating the two of them. Jester squirmed, pulled tighter at his hair, and let out a high, desperate moan. 

One certainty pulled its way through the steam clouding Caleb’s mind: he needed to pull as many of those intoxicating sounds out of her as he could. 

He licked the shell of her ear, rolled his tongue around the pointed tip and sucked it into his mouth. Jester let out another sound, halfway between a gasp and squeal. He moved down to her neck, planted little bites there as he rearranged himself. Wrapped one arm firmly around her waist and pulled her in tight, as his other hand, now free, moved up to explore.

Jester loosened her grip on his hair - tragic, but unavoidable - and wrapped both of her arms around his shoulders. She turned her neck to give him better access and ground her hips against him.

He ran his free hand up her body, only to get tangled in her wet dress. Gods above, he wanted to pull it off of her, to grab it and rip it down the middle, to have her naked in his lap.

Some vague semblance of coherent thought returned as he worked through that. He would need two hands to pull it up over her head, but he didn’t want to let go of her waist. He wasn’t strong enough to rip it off of her - though, actually, Jester might have been strong enough to rip _his_ clothes off, if he’d been wearing any. He could feel his eyes unfocusing at the thought. He shook his head. This wasn’t the time. They could come back to that later. 

There was way to get her wet clothes off without changing their position, so he elected to ignore it, moving his hand to her head. She’d gone straight for his hair when she climbed on top of him, so why not return the favor? 

He dragged light nails against her scalp, running through her damp hair. Jester made another sound. Not quite a whine, but impatient. Caleb faltered. Did that mean ‘Stop?’ Or did it mean ‘Pull my damn hair already?’

He didn’t have time to figure it out. Jester unwrapped herself from him, grabbed both of his shoulders, and pushed him back down onto the stone floor. She kissed him hard, scraping her teeth over his lower lip as she moaned into his mouth. 

The stone against his back wasn’t comfortable, but he'd had worse. It was colder than the steamy air, but warm enough that he could bear it, no matter how long Jester wanted to keep him down here. 

She sat up, still straddling his waist, then crossed her arms and pulled her shift up and over her head. Caleb drank in the sight of her. 

The past year had left its mark, but the life she had lived before was still visible. She was etched in battle scars: thin and subtle, clearly healed by magic. She had the thick muscles - _very_ thick muscles, Caleb noted - of a seasoned adventurer. But looking past that, Jester was soft. She had the full figure of a woman who lived for pastries, not just in her breasts and thighs, but in a frankly adorable tummy pouch. Her skin and hair were smooth in a way that could only come from consistent care. Ja, she could put an axe in a man’s head, but she was an artist, and she knew first-hand the power a beautiful woman could wield.

It could be so easy to mistake her for just one or the other, but here, beneath her, Caleb could see the whole picture of Jester Lavorre. She was _breathtaking._

Jester ran her teeth over her lower lip. “You know, it’s very flattering the way you look at me. I should strip for you more often.”

Caleb groaned. This was the best fucking day of his life. He had no idea what he had done to get here, but he had never been more grateful for an accident. 

Jester took both of his hands and pulled them up to her breasts, squeezing her hands around his. He kneaded the soft flesh, and Jester purred in approval. So he took the next logical step and rolled her nipples between his fingers, delighting in the hitch of her breath. 

She rose onto her knees, reached beneath her, and snatched the little towel off of Caleb’s lap. His mind tripped over itself as she sunk back down, pushing his hard cock against his body and grinding herself against him. Whatever Caleb had left of his self-control evaporated. He let out a desperate whine.

Jester’s smile only grew. “You’re loving this, aren’t you? You like looking up at me like this?”

“Fuck, ja. Jester, _please_.”

At the last word she blushed, tinting her cheeks a lovely shade purple. “Well,” she said. “Since you asked nicely…” She pulled her hands off of his and leaned forward, rising up on her knees again. Bracing herself with one hand on the floor, she reached the other down and pushed one finger into herself. After a few seconds of gentle thrusting, she inserted another finger, sucking in a quiet breath at the sensation. As much as Caleb wanted to continue watching the show, he couldn’t. She pushed her breasts into his face as she rode her fingers, and Caleb, not completely unintelligent, took the hint, kissing and sucking at her nipples. 

Time seemed to stop as they stayed like that, the sound of Jester’s heavy breathing filling the room as she worked her fingers inside herself. Caleb sucked on one of her nipples, rolling over it with his tongue. He tried to keep quiet though, not wanting to miss any sound she might make.

Jester sat upright, still fucking her fingers, but the hand that had been bracing her against the floor now dragged sharp nails down Caleb’s chest, and the sensation was enough to drive him out of his fucking mind. So much for trying to keep quiet. If there was anyone else on this floor they would have definitely heard him now - gasping, moaning, he would have been begging if he could think clearly enough to form a sentence. Götter, he probably looked like a fucking mess. Jester cupped her free hand against his cheek, and through his haze he caught a glance at her expression. 

She was looking at him adoringly. Like he was something worth having. As if the sight of his face overcome by sensation was an actual factor in her pleasure, not an unfortunate byproduct of the process.

A wave of self-loathing hit him like a tidal wave, almost knocking him out of the moment completely. Jester could do better than him. Jester _deserved_ better than him. How had he let things go this far?

But Caleb was well adept at managing his own piss-poor mental state. This travesty was one more he’d have to add to his list, but he could deal with the guilt later. Jester was here, naked, on top of him, and while he couldn’t understand _why,_ he knew she deserved every orgasm he could wring out of her.

Lifting his head up to suck one nipple between his teeth, he reached down and pressed two fingers to rub against her clit. 

Jester’s whole body shook and she thrust her fingers faster, letting out a quiet, needy whine. Caleb reached up with his other hand up, took a fistful of her hair, and pulled.

She didn’t scream, exactly. The sound she made was high-pitched and unmistakably sexual, a desperate keen that went straight to Caleb’s cock. He rubbed tighter circles on her clit as she writhed against him, fucking herself on three fingers now, breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

Jester reached down and grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

Scheisse. Had he done something wrong? Too much? Did she not like it? 

She pulled herself up onto her knees again, reached down, wrapped one hand around Caleb’s cock, and pressed the head against her soaked entrance.

His heart caught in his throat. 

She looked back up at him, genuine concern on her face, contrasting her reddened cheeks and blown pupils. “Is this okay?” she asked, completely serious. “We don’t have to.”

He would have laughed out loud if he hadn’t been such an overwhelming mixture of painfully aroused and completely bamboozled. “Ja, it’s definitely okay, please-”

The rest was cut off as Jester sank down onto his cock. _Fuck._ Caleb’s head fell back against the stone floor as he gasped. Götter, he desperately wanted to just grab her and fuck her until she screamed again, until she clenched around him and yelled out his name. He didn’t. Just gripped her hips and groaned. 

She worked her way down onto him. Slowly, rhythmically, rocking her hips until he was completely buried inside her. Jester looked down at him with unfocused eyes and a loose smile.

“Caleb,” she stroked one hand down his cheek, “I wish you could see how you look right now.”

He couldn’t let her keep talking like that, not if he wanted to come out of this in one piece. He grabbed her hips and thrust up into her. Her gasp turned to a whine, _fuck,_ and all finesse fell to the wayside, just frantic thrusting as she rode him, trying to push her to orgasm before she could say anything else tender and heartbreaking.

Caleb had his sins to answer for, of course he did, _of course_ he’d thought about Jester like this, imagined her in the moment of her climax, desperate and half out of her mind. But he’d never imagined the physicality of it. 

Their rhythm stopped short as she doubled over, shaking so violently that she nearly toppled. She braced both hands against him, digging her nails into his chest. Legs locked, toes curled. Her head fell forward, hair covering her face. She gave one loud, shuddering cry as she pulsed around him.

Caleb tried to keep steady, to keep working her through her climax, through the aftershocks, as her moans turned into desperate pants and half-intelligible begging. Moans, pleas, _his name_ spilling from her lips as she collapsed, shuddering and spent, against his chest.

He slipped out of her when she fell forward, and couldn’t actually reach her clit with his hand pinned beneath her body like this. He eased off, ran his free hand through her hair again while she breathed heavily against his chest.

Now that he no longer had the compelling sight of Jester in the throes of passion to distract him, Caleb became aware that the stone floor was actually deeply uncomfortable. His body ached. Every muscle in him screamed at him to move, to scoop Jester up and roll to his side and spoon her like that. To hold her tight, yes, but to _move_ , scheisse, to change their position before his back mutinied. But he couldn’t. Jester lay pliant and loose-limbed on his chest, breathing finally beginning to slow. He couldn’t lay her down onto cold stone. She deserved better. Even if it was uncomfortable, if he could lay between her and the ground he would, for as long as she needed.

After a long, stone-marked minute, Jester came back to herself. She looked up at him through her lashes, vague concern etched on her face.

Panic seized at him. She regretted it. Of course she’d regret it, that was hardly a surprise, fuck, he should have stopped her, he should have refused this for her sake. How could he have been so selfish?

“Caleb,” she leaned her face closer to his, looking deep into his eyes. “Shitballs. I got distracted. Should I give you blowjob?”

He burst out a surprised laugh. His shock wasn’t enough to completely distract him from the idea she presented, how lovely she would look on her knees, but he pushed that thought back. Jester hadn’t taken his laughter as an answer either way, and kept looking up at him earnestly.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said, finally. “I’m fine. I’m better than fine.”

She stroked a finger over his chest as she pouted. That would have been cute on its own, but in the context of her lying naked on top of him became almost unbearably sexy. “But you didn’t come. Don’t you want me to suck you off?”

He’d be lying if he said the idea didn’t make his cock throb. 

“If that’s what you want, I won’t dissuade you. But, uh, perhaps not in here?”

Jester tilted her head, confused.

“You’ll either have to kneel on the floor,” he let one arm lazily smack the uncomfortable stone, “or you’ll have to sit in the hot tub. Neither sounds comfortable.”

She hummed as she considered. “Or I could lay on top of you. You could eat me out at the same time.”

This girl was going to fucking kill him. Caleb swallowed. “Ja, that is true. But I would prefer to move somewhere else. This stone is-”

“Oh my gosh!” Jester sat up in an instant, and Caleb floundered behind, grabbing at her waist to keep her close. “I’m sorry! Of course you’re uncomfortable!”

“It’s fine.” He’d caught her in his lap, head now buried in her shoulder, hard cock pressed against her thigh. They sat like that for a moment, quiet and warm. “You made an interesting point earlier.”

Jester made a curious sound, like she’d tried to hum a question mark.

“My bedroom is the only one on this floor,” he said. “We’d be much more comfortable there.”

She hummed again, considering. “If we went to your bedroom, you’d let me give you a blowjob?”

He could feel his heart palpitating. She may actually be trying to kill him. If so, this was the best assassination attempt he could ever hope for. He ran his hands over her back, trying to keep his breathing steady. “If that’s what you really want to do, ja, you can. But I can think of a few other things you might enjoy more.”

She pressed her head into the crook of his neck, letting out a contented sigh. “All right. But only if you promise that I’m not the only one who’s going to finish this time.”

Caleb squeezed tight, running his hand once more over the curve of her body, smiling freely.

“Ja, I promise.”

  
  


* * *

-crashed into him, a wave of magic that hit him as sure as a blow to the head.

Caleb stumbled forward.

He was in a new room. It was definitely not the room he’d just left, but it would have been easy to mistake them. It was empty but for a silver-bordered door on the opposite wall, with the same golden filigree as before covering the walls and ceiling. The only difference was the absence of the central pedestal.

He turned back.

Behind him was an empty passage to a pitch black space. It stayed open for a moment, and then a door slid closed then faded into the wall as if it had never been there at all. Just more gold filigree.

He couldn’t think. His brain was completely empty. In fact, he may never be able to think again.

.

..

…

He’d had sex with Jester in the Xhorhaus spa.

From zero to top speed, every gear in his head was whirring at absolute maximum, but none of them were lined up right, just crunching and cracking against each other, knocking off teeth and pouring smoke.

It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. The last time they’d stayed at the Xhorhaus, Yasha and Beau hadn’t been together. The entire concept was impossible.

Why had it felt so real? It was an illusion. It had to be an illusion. Caleb ran a shaking hand through his hair, confused for a moment when it was dry despite the steam and warm water.

What kind of illusion was that? Why had he seen it? He took stock again, panicked. His name was Caleb Widogast, born Bren Aldric Ermendrud, to parents Leofric and Una. His cat was Frumpkin, his friend was Veth. He was a member of the Mighty Nein.

Was that consistent? It seemed consistent. He began to pace, ran everything back. 

_No,_ no, not everything, not _that,_ just everything else leading up to it.

He’d fought a dragon with the rest of the Nein. Beau found the sword. He failed to identify it, like a fool, like an absolute amateur, before he got himself stuck in here. Stuck in the first gold room, he’d opened the door when-

“Caleb!”

His entire body tensed as Jester’s voice sounded through the ring.

She was here too. Of course she was here too. She was in this sword prison, she was here and it was his fault. She had also touched the door handle, that was the only way they’d gotten it open, the only way they’d progressed into that pitch black space, the only way he’d had that damn vision foisted upon him-

He didn’t know what she’d seen.

_He didn’t know what she’d seen._

A few gears clicked together. Not all of them, not enough to stop the whirring disaster of his mind, but enough to send waves of motion down the tracks in disparate directions.

First option: the illusion was a reflection of Caleb’s mental state. His own affection for Jester, his absolute _stupid_ adoration that had gotten her stuck here in the first place. That was possible.

Another: the illusion included Jester because she was the other person touching the door handle, affection be damned. If he had gotten stuck here with someone else - with Beau or with Caduceus or with a damned bugbear - that’s who he would have seen instead.

A more concerning possibility: this malicious hellscape had picked that scene, not for any inherent qualities it possessed, but for the emotional reaction he was having in this moment. Caleb was teetering on the brink of total shutdown and didn’t see any immediate solution. If this place wanted him off-kilter, unable to think his way out of the prison it presented, this was definitely one way to accomplish it.

That gave him a shred of hope. Just a tiny little scrap, but enough to keep him from tucking his head between his knees and hyperventilating for the foreseeable future. 

He didn’t know what Jester had seen. It didn’t have to be _that_. In fact, it probably wasn’t.

If the illusion was based on her mental state, on _her_ preferences, then she wouldn’t have seen Caleb at all. That was fine. Let Jester have a lovely scene with Oskar from Tusk Love, or some handsome shop boy from the Nicodranas of her youth, or Fjord, or Beau, or _anyone_ beside him.

If this place just wanted to throw them off mentally, he wasn’t concerned. Jester would be able to handle that better than he would. She had an abundance of common sense, though she chose to ignore it nearly all of the time. She would not only see through the attempted manipulation, she would probably reform the non-sapient prison with her charm. Somehow.

But if it was based on who else had been touching the door… Caleb shook his head. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t that. If Jester had seen the same illusion he had, she would have stood up and walked out of the spa. She would have told him she wasn’t interested in him like that, and that version of Caleb would have done the right thing and walked out of the damn room.

And maybe it was something else completely. Something Caleb hadn’t considered. Perhaps Jester had seen nothing but the empty black space, and only he had seen anything.

“Caleb, are you okay? Did you see that?” 

Perhaps not. He took a deep breath in through his nose and pressed his thumb across to touch the silver ring.

“I am going to need a moment.”

With that he snapped his fingers. Frumpkin appeared at his feet, looking up at him through slit pupils. Caleb picked him up, pressed his face against the soft fur of Frumpkin’s side, and took deep calming breaths.

She’d seen something. She’d seen _something_. It was fine. It was probably nothing. Everything was completely fine.

He wrapped Frumpkin around his neck like the world’s most comforting scarf and pressed his thumb back onto the ring.

“Jester.” Götter, just saying her name had his face burning crimson. He was grateful she couldn’t see him. Now he just needed to be as vague as possible until he’d figured out what she’d seen. “I saw an illusion. It used details that could only have come from one of our minds.”

“Oh. It was an illusion. That makes sense.” 

“What did you see?” he asked. He hoped against hope that Jester’s forwardness would let her talk about what had to be Oskar from Tusk Love, please, just let it be Oskar.

She hesitated. “What did _you_ see?” she asked eventually.

Scheisse. That didn't bode well. “I asked first.” 

“Well I asked second.”

Neither of them spoke.

Caleb sighed. “Something that we would both prefer not to mention, then.” That wasn’t going to do his mounting anxiety any favors, but Jester didn’t seem to be disgusted with him, so he could live with it. Perhaps she simply did not want to talk about her time with Oskar. “That is fine."

The awkward silence stretched. Caleb took the opportunity to examine this new room. Its dimensions were the same as the previous, and he could see no deviations in either the filigree pattern or pentagon floor. There still weren't any secret levers or buttons that he could spot. The door was the only notable thing, and at a glance it looked identical to the last one.

"There’s another door in this room. I’m going to cast Identify on it.”

“That's a good idea. Sorry I didn’t let you do that last time.”

He shook his head, then remembered to speak out loud. “You did not prevent me from casting it. You persuaded me to do otherwise. You have nothing to apologize for.”

He examined the new door. The exact same moons with the exact same spirographs, the same crescent handle in the middle of the door. He went to cast Identify as a ritual, and-

That couldn’t be right. 

His magic had the unusual, pliable quality it did when he woke in the morning, the sign that he could now prepare which spells he wanted to use for the day. That was impossible. He checked his internal clock, referencing against the time they’d been sucked into the sword-

_That couldn’t be right._

“Um, Jester? Strange question, how many more times can you cast Sending?”

Jester made a confused noise. “I thought I told you already? I can cast it… Huh. I can cast it a lot, actually.”

Scheisse.

In the time between opening the door in the first room and appearing in this new one, eight hours had passed. _Eight hours,_ nearly to the second. This was much worse than he’d anticipated.

“I’m casting Identify. No matter what you do, don’t touch the door.”

Forget ritual casting. He whipped a pearl and an owl feather out of his pouch and grabbed the door handle, chanting quietly for the required minute.

Finally, awareness of the doors’ abilities passed into his mind, as straightforward as one of his own thoughts:

_When two living creatures touch the handles of the Dream Doors at the same time, both doors open. Crossing the threshold triggers the spell Power Word Snooze, followed by the spell Dream. The scenario envisioned is generated by one’s thoughts toward the other._

Caleb blinked rapid-fire, trying to understand. These things were called Dream Doors, and the vision he had seen had been a magically created dream. That was easy enough to grasp.

 _Generated by one’s thoughts toward the other._ So, as he’d first thought, his affection for Jester had created that dream. But that didn’t guarantee that Jester had seen the same thing. If her dream had been based on her thoughts toward him, she might have seen nothing more than a vision of him being awkward and surrounded by books. Or perhaps she _had_ \- no, that didn’t bear thinking about. 

Why did the wording of the Identify spell have to be so vague?

More importantly, what in the everloving fuck was _Power Word Snooze?_ He’d never heard of it. It didn’t sound like a real spell. He’d heard of Power Word Stun and Power Word Kill, and it seemed reasonable to assume that this one worked in a similar manner - any being below a certain range of vitality would instantly fall victim to its effect and, in this case, if the name was anything to go by, fall asleep.

He let go of the door. That wasn’t as enlightening as he’d hoped. But their imposed sleep had given them the solution they needed.

“You can cast a spell to return to your bedroom at the Lavish Chateau, ja?”

“Word of Recall?” Jester hesitated before answering. “I mean, _I can,_ but I don’t want to. I can’t bring you with me unless you’re really close, and I don’t want you to be stuck here all alone.”

“Do not worry about that. You return home and spend some time with your mother. I’ll Teleport out and bring the others to you.”

“Oh.” Jester snorted. “I forgot you could do that. Okay, I’ll message you when I’m out.”

Caleb sat in silence, waiting for news.

“Um, Caleb? It didn’t work.”

“Oh.” His heart dropped. “That is not good.”

“Try to Teleport out!”

He shook his head. He kept making that mistake, he'd have to remind himself that she couldn’t see his movement. “I don’t want to leave you in here. And if you were not able to-”

“If you get out, you can take the sword to someone who can help! Just try it, jeez!”

He breathed through his nose and focused on the teleportation circle in Yussa’s tower. With the image clear in his mind, he cast Teleport. Nothing. The magic was expended, but Caleb was still standing beside the Dream Door.

“This is very bad. Contact Beauregard, tell her it’s worse than we thought."

“Okay.” She paused. “What time is it there?”

“It is just after 6 in the evening. She’ll be awake.”

“Okay, got it. _Beau!_ ” Her voice took on a halting quality as she counted her words. “Caleb and I can’t teleport out. We’re stuck. It’s bad. Aaaaaaaaa.”

Ordinarily Caleb would have snorted at her underwhelming, monotonous yell, but this new development was too distressing for even that to cheer him up. “Thirteen words left. Ask for a general update and ask who will be awake in eight hours for you to contact then.”

“Wait, what? _Shit_ … Update? And in eight hours… who… should… I... Send at?”

There was a long silence.

“Beau says that they’re on their way to Zadash, like we said. And Veth will wait up for the next message.”

“All right. That is all I needed. You can send whatever messages you like.”

“Okay.” She didn’t leap at the chance as Caleb expected. “What did the Identify spell tell you?”

He considered his phrasing carefully. Jester may have been casual and open about sexual topics, but he doubted even she would be comfortable with the idea of him having a hyper-realistic sex vision about her. The description of the Dream Doors hadn’t included anything overtly sexual, but he couldn’t help thinking that she would see right through him. Between his clearly unsettled demeanor and the knowledge that his dream had been formed based on his thoughts of her, she would figure it out in an instant.

“Nothing especially useful,” he said, finally. “The doors are called Dream Doors. If we both touch the handle, both doors open. That much we figured out on our own. Once we cross the threshold, we are hit with… I believe it is a sleeping spell? And then a dream spell. The latter creates the illusion we saw.”

There. Technically true, but vague enough to avoid a falling out.

“So it’s not going to hurt us?”

“The doors won’t hurt us, no.”

“Then shouldn’t we get moving?”

He blinked in confusion, trying and failing to understand what she was saying. “You… you want to go through another door?” he asked.

Jester was quiet for several long moments before she spoke, to the point that Caleb worried that she was actually speaking and had forgotten to touch the ring to transmit her voice to him. “The thing is,” she said eventually, “this might sound weird, but I think we’re supposed to be opposites?”

Caleb furrowed his brows. “What, philosophically?”

She snorted. “No, I mean our colours. You’re gold and I’m silver, right? And the things that are gold for me are silver for you.”

Oh. Duh. 

“I’m following so far.”

“Well, what if we’re on opposite sides of this place? That makes sense, right?”

“I suppose?”

“If we’re on opposite sides, and we keep moving forward together, eventually we’ll meet in the middle. And the doors aren’t going to hurt us, so I think we should do it!”

Jester did not realize how on-the-nose her phrasing was. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but-”

 _"And also,_ there are no cozy places to sit in here, and no snacks, and there’s nothing to do, and if you try to make me sit here for eight hours I’ll go fucking crazy.”

Now that, actually, was a compelling reason. Caleb didn’t feel hungry or thirsty yet, but that was liable to change within the next few hours. If there was a chance of finding food and water in later rooms, it would be worth pressing on.

The silver handle on his door glowed gold. He steeled his nerves. If these dreams were based on his feelings for Jester, that didn’t mean they would all be like the last one. He had plenty of thoughts about her, not just sexual ones. It would be fine. He grabbed the handle, and the door sank forward and slid into the wall.

He crossed the threshold into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor sweet Caleb. He's not going to be that anxious and overthinky *every* time, but he had to get it out of his system this once. 
> 
> So, originally the plan was for the doors to cast Sleep and then Dream. That makes sense, right? But then, uhhhh, it turns out that Dream at 9th level will only knock you out if you've got <= 21d8HP, which averages to around mid-80s to high-90s. Which meant it would put Caleb to sleep pretty consistently, but it would almost never hit high enough to take out Jester. Which. Uh. Yeah. Didn't work.
> 
> So I have here homebrewed the dumbest sounding spell ever, 'Power Word Snooze.' It's a mashup between Sleep and Power Word Stun, which functions more or less identically to the latter. But like. Sleepier. 
> 
> Why not call it 'Power Word Sleep' you ask? Good question!
> 
> Anyway, if someone's got less than 150HP (which both Caleb and Jester do) then they get instantly put to sleep and roll con saves to wake back up. Or, you know, they would, if they didn't find themselves extremely fucking distracted by a sexy dream spell.
> 
> Also, I'm sure you can tell, I've never overthought anything, ever, not a single time, never in my entire goddamn life.


End file.
